Monochrome Duet

by Solid Shark

After the brutal 25th Floor Boss Raid, Asuna has left Kirito's side to join the Knights of Blood. With his partner gone, Kirito resigns himself to returning to the life of a solo player-until a familiar face from the lower floors unexpectedly reenters his life. The strangely-human NPC Kizmel, despite her quest being over, has returned to his side... Kirito/Kizmel.

19. Chapter XIX: Duet

March 6th, 2024

---

There was something deeply surreal about watching the battle between Dark Elf and Forest play out once more. Whatever her dreams had shown her, Kizmel had always believed that only once had the confrontation truly occurred: only the time Kirito and Asuna had suddenly come to her rescue, saving her from a battle she had expected to lose.

This time, the clash proceeded more the way it had in her dreams. The party of Swordmasters was completely unfamiliar, and in the end the Dark Elf called upon the Holy Tree of Lyusula and sacrificed everything to save the lives of the humans.

Yet even her "dreams" did not match what she saw there, over a year after she had lived it. Kirito was not among the Swordmasters, and the Dark Elf was not her.

Afterward, in a room high up in one of Zumfut's hollow-tree inns, Kizmel sat on the edge of a bed and stared into a mug of hot chocolate. She been sitting there for several minutes, just trying to take in what she'd seen, when she finally spoke. "All right, Klein," she said softly. "Seeing Kobayashi convinced me of the nature of this world, and those who live in it. But now, seeing that battle once more… I find myself confused again. If 'quests' reset themselves for each Swordmaster, why was that not me?"

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Fuurinkazan's guildmaster shrugged. "To be honest, that's something we've been wondering for a long time. Well, Kirito, the Vice-Commander, and Argo the Rat, anyway; I didn't hear anything about it until months later. Seems this was one of the first clues Kirito had something was weird about you, though: he and the Vice-Commander stumbled on that not long after they met you, and found the Forest Elf was the same… but the Dark Elf wasn't."

Kizmel bit back frustration. Or tried to, anyway; she couldn't help a note of impatience when she said, "And? I could see that much for myself. What does it mean?"

Klein raised a placating hand. "Sorry. The point is, from a programming standpoint it would make sense to have them the same every time, or generate both randomly every time. Keeping one but not the other?" He shook his head. "Kirito did some digging… around the time you joined up with him on the Twenty-Sixth Floor, I think. From what the Rat could find, in the beta it was always you—but nobody ever ran into you in the retail version. Except Kirito and the Vice-Commander."

The term "retail version" wasn't one she was familiar with, but in context with "beta", Kizmel grasped the essential point. Most importantly, it meant that, at the least, she was "unique" in the current Aincrad, whatever her precise nature truly was.

"They saved me," she murmured, as much to herself as to Klein. "That… changed something, then. But if it was always 'me', why do I only see Kirito's parties in my dreams? Surely he wasn't always there when 'I' was encountered."

He flashed a brief grin. "That, I can maybe take a guess at, Kizmel. You only started having those dreams after meeting him for real, right? Doesn't it make sense you'd dream about the guy who made the biggest impression? As far as I know, nobody else ran the quest more than once, after all."

Frowning, Kizmel took a long sip of her hot chocolate. That… does seem plausible. Especially as I remember nothing else from the "beta". If I experienced it as a kind of dream, well, dreams are seldom remembered with true clarity, are they?

For the first time since the shattering revelations hours before—a lifetime before, it seemed already—she felt just the tiniest flicker of hope. Everything Klein had shown her supported Lind's words—Kirito's words—about the nature of Aincrad, and those who lived within the Steel Castle. Yet everything also suggested she herself was an anomaly, an exception to the rules.

Kizmel set her mug aside, stood, and walked to the room's window, overlooking Zumfut and the surrounding forest. "So it may be that I truly am… unique," she whispered. "But even if I am… what does that make me?"

"That's the big question, and it's why I can't say for sure you're not just another NPC, Kizmel." Klein joined her by the window, a discreet few paces away. "Kirito and Argo have done a lot of digging and brainstorming, and any way you slice it you don't make any sense. Hell, for the first day or two Kirito was afraid you were an accomplice of Kayaba's in disguise."

Surprise, and no small offense, jolted the elf girl out of her ruminations. "Me, an ally of Kayaba?" she demanded, affronted. "The first I ever heard of the man was when Sachi told me the Swordmasters expected a game. I certainly would never have aided such a treacherous—!"

"Easy there!" The red samurai raised both hands as if to ward her off—an effect marred by the fact that, for whatever insane reason, he was grinning. "He figured out pretty quick you weren't. Somebody on Kayaba's end of things would've known Kirito didn't have his real face in the beta. Those 'dreams' of yours only made sense if you were for real, or the worst spy ever."

Mollified, and more than a little surprised by the strength of her own reaction, Kizmel relaxed. As much as she could just then, anyway. If Kirito's mistaken impression had been that early, before they were even truly friends, she supposed she could forgive it. This once.

"Anyway," Klein continued, when it was clear she wasn't going to throw him out the window, "that got ruled out quick. But that didn't exactly answer the question, either. Now, I don't know the technical stuff that well, that's more Kirito and Argo's area, but I do know sapient AI shouldn't be possible yet."

Lifting one lilac eyebrow, Kizmel inclined her head toward the view out the window, of the deep forests of the Third Floor. "Your people can casually create something on the scale of the Steel Castle, and you think making one doll believe she is alive is too fantastic to be real?"

"Aincrad's just things, Kizmel, one way or the other. Even the animals and mobs might as well be puppets on strings. This is the biggest virtual environment ever created, but that's just information. Put enough books together, you get a library nobody could read in a lifetime. A person?" Klein shook his head. "That should be more processing power than the Steel Castle, and that's if we knew how we ticked. Which we don't, yet. Not nearly well enough to duplicate it, anyway."

More questions than answers. Kizmel hardly knew what to think at this point. A small part of her found it oddly comforting that the people of the so-called "real" world were hardly gods. A larger part was, slowly, starting to feel hopeful.

Mostly, she was confused. Terribly confused. While she had a growing surety of the nature of Aincrad, it was scarcely a comforting one, and the more she heard of her own situation, the less she understood. That even the Swordmasters were in the dark didn't help, either.

Although… maybe it does. At the least, knowing that he had some reason for holding back all this time, for not telling me the truth…

"I can't tell you what you are, Kizmel." Klein's words drew her out of her thoughts again, to find him looking at her with a serious expression. "All I can say is that as far as anybody can tell, there's only one of you. And if Keita tries to say you're just a doll one more time, he can go take a flying leap off the edge."

Kizmel's eyes widened. "You heard…?"

"A bit of it, yeah." He shrugged uncomfortably. "I was afraid that was gonna happen, when I found out where you went. That little brat's been an obnoxious bastard ever since the Black Cats went down. You won't be hearing anything else out of him."

She was afraid to ask what he meant by that. Obviously Klein hadn't killed him, but what he might've threatened… No, on second thought, I don't care. Just his neglect of Sachi warrants whatever Klein did. …And it feels… warm, somehow.

"Anyway. Whatever other NPCs might be, there's no question you're different, Kizmel. What that means? Only advice I can give you is an old saying: Cogito ergo sum." Displaying an admirably somber expression in response to her raised eyebrow, he added, "'I think, therefore I am'. Basically means, if you can even ask if you're real, you must be."

Three words. Three simple words that cut right to the heart of Kizmel's dilemma, and gave her something to which to cling. Although… "That's remarkably profound, coming from you, Klein," she couldn't resist saying.

"Okay, so I got that one from Kirito," Klein admitted with a sheepish grin. Scratching the back of his head, he said, "Think he might've gotten it from Argo or the Flash… But you know what I mean, right?"

"I do," she said softly. "Thank you, Klein. That… helps." She hesitated. "But… what about my memories? Thought might be inexplicable, but surely that could just be data. And if my memories are fake, what does that say about a person built on them?"

"…That's not an answer I can give you. I think that's one you're going to have to find for yourself, Kizmel." Klein shrugged."If I were you, though? I'd go back and find stuff from those memories, and see how it feels next to the ones we know you had for real."

---

March 7th, 2024

---

Dawn was one of only two short times of day where the sun could be clearly seen in Aincrad. This morning, it painted Dollarah in light that reminded Asuna of old Jidai Geki movies she'd seen, the kind she'd heard were similar to Hollywood Westerns. Appropriate, she supposed, given the apparent inspiration for the Fifty-Sixth Floor's setting.

Some appreciated that dawn more than others. Of the clearers who'd assembled in the temporary headquarters that morning, it was a tossup who was more annoyed: the various solos, or the Divine Dragons Alliance. Quite a few of them looked like they'd been dragged out of bed way too early.

Fair enough, I suppose, Asuna thought, taking her place at the head of the table, Heathcliff silently taking his spot behind her. Everybody was probably expecting to get more sleep today.

Among the DDA, Lind himself seemed reasonably awake. His fatigue was only betrayed, she thought, by the unusual grumpiness making it through his preferred cool confidence. "All right, Vice-Commander," he said, when the meeting room's doors had been closed. "It looks like everyone who was going to be here today. May I ask why the time for the meeting was changed? I understood we were going to reconvene this afternoon."

"That's true," Asuna acknowledged. "However, things have changed since yesterday, and we need to begin preparations as soon as possible."

"Preparations for what?" The DDA's highest-ranking tank, Schmidt, frowned. "Don't tell me this is about that solo and his NPC friend. Due respect, but that has nothing to do with us."

Asuna had to restrain herself from frowning at him. After all, it was the DDA's own guildmaster who had triggered the previous day's events, whatever role she herself had ended up playing in them.

Interestingly, from the wince he almost managed to cover, Lind realized it, too.

She only shook her head, though, refusing to be drawn off-topic. "This has nothing to do with them," she said firmly. "I'm confident Kirito-kun and Fuurinkazan can handle that situation. No, I called you all here early to discuss the new plan for defeating The Geocrawler."

"New plan?" Now Lind did frown—but it was a speculative one, she thought. "If you say this has nothing to do with Kizmel-san… Did the Rat find something? I assume she's been looking."

"Not her, no. In fact, I stumbled across the information myself, late last night. Something I need to address first, however." Asuna paused, mentally reviewing her approach; some of the evidence she had, she wasn't willing to use. Logic, though, she felt should be good enough. "To be honest, part of this is from Kirito-kun. Something he pointed out to me after our duel."

Something she was more sure than ever he was right about, after what had happened later. If they had used Lind's plan when he'd first suggested it, she never would've found the clue they needed.

"Kirito-kun had a lot more to say," she went on, "but I'll keep it simple: what do you think Cardinal would do, if we used NPCs as bait?"

She could see more than a few of the other clearers looked skeptical at that, especially among the DDA, but also a few of her own KoB. A couple of the solos, though, were frowning thoughtfully; Asuna made a mental note to look into them later. Anyone who'd run into the odder things in SAO probably had useful stories of their own.

It was Lind who gave voice to the questions. "I don't see why it would do anything, Vice-Commander," he said slowly, tapping his fingers on the map table. "What I suggested yesterday didn't involve any system exploits. Presumably Cardinal's programmed to take that into account, no adjustments needed."

"You may be right," Asuna admitted at once; she thought that surprised him, just a little. "I'm not so sure. But think about it this way: in Kayaba's story, we're supposed to be liberators of this world. What do you suppose happens if the 'heroes' turn on the people they're supposed to protect?"

A couple of the Divine Dragons scoffed; Orochi in particular rolled his eyes. "Oh, please," he muttered, just quiet enough to pretend it wasn't meant to be heard. "This game doesn't have karma meters, it doesn't care about things like that…"

"You'd be surprised, Orochi," Asuna told him coolly. "You weren't on the frontlines back on the Sixth Floor, were you? Ask your guildmaster sometime about what happened when PKers attacked a few quest NPCs in the field. You can go orange for actions that aren't against players directly."

She wondered why Schmidt paled at that. Her attention was more on his guildmates, though, and the solos; Shivata and Liten, she was glad to see, exchanged uneasy looks. They'd been around for that, and from the look of things so had some of the unaligned clearers.

"You make a compelling argument, Vice-Commander," Lind said after a moment. His face was a few shades lighter than usual, too, if not nearly as white as Schmidt. "Something that should be tested at some point, if possible—but this is probably not the best time." He squared his shoulders. "You said you had a plan. What have you found out?"

Her primary rival for tactical command ceding the question quickly settled even those most inclined to disagree, and Asuna smiled thinly. Kirito-kun is right, isn't he? You do like to play the hero, even now, Lind. Aloud, she said, "I heard something very interesting from a local NPC last night. About a lullaby, that can supposedly put even 'the serpent armored in iron' to sleep."

"What, we're supposed to sing at it?" She didn't recognize the solo who spoke up, beyond him being another of the regulars in boss raid. "What is this, a Zelda game? I mean, there isn't even anything—"

"The 'Chant' Extra Skill." The voice that interrupted came from the KoB side of the table; Uzala, that was, one of the guild's individual party leaders. Snapping his fingers, he glanced back at the rest of his team. "You remember, right, guys? The guy who dropped out last October, he was talking about Chant."

It was Asuna's turn to frown. Things had been busy enough back then, with enough of a turnover rate in the guild as the PKer problem started getting attention, that she'd missed a few details. That sounded familiar, though; something about one of the lower-ranked Knights who'd had problems fighting on the frontline…?

"Yeah, I remember now," another Knight, Sanza, confirmed. "Dunno what happened after that, though." He directed a shrug at Asuna. "Uzala's right, Vice-Commander. Chant is probably what we're after, here. But where do we find somebody who has it? Even Cooking is more popular a skill than that."

Asuna very carefully controlled her expression, and after a moment projected another thin smile. "That, ladies and gentlemen, is why I called this meeting early. I don't care if it's a member of one of the guilds here, or the solos. It can even be some low-level player; if this works out, we can protect them well enough. Just find someone, more than one if you can, who knows Chant.

"Then we're bringing this boss down."

---

Klein's advice was well-taken. When dawn broke the day after her world was shattered, Kizmel left Zumfut for the Royal Capital on the Ninth Floor—but this time, not to see Moongleam Castle. She had a different destination in mind, in the city's outskirts. Klein came with her as far as the entrance, but left once they'd confirmed one crucial fact.

She was grateful to Fuurinkazan's ever-reliable guildmaster. The rest of the journey, though, would have to be her own.

It had been a long time since Kizmel visited that house, in the commoner district of the Royal Capital. She hadn't been able to bear the thought of returning, after Tilnel's death. The months between the defeat of the Fallen Elves and her departure to join Kirito in the Swordmasters' war, she'd stayed in the barracks of Moongleam Castle itself.

This, though, was the home in which the two of them had grown up, before service in the Pagoda Knights elevated their station. Only now did Kizmel have the courage to return, a courage bolstered by Klein's confirmation that it was not an instanced map.

Deliberately ignoring the passing Dark Elves on the street, whom even she could now see were only acting by rote, she nervously opened the front door and slipped inside.

Nothing had changed since she last saw it. A house of sturdy stone, paneled on the inside with pine, the wood painstakingly gathered over years from fallen trees. Furniture largely of dark mahogany, which she had been told in times long past were heirlooms, and she now recognized as simply having been created as they were in place. All of it was the same as she remembered.

Of course it is. Were this "instanced", it would have hardly existed in the time I was away. If it is "public", there still has been no one here to disturb anything in many months.

Her mother had died when she and Tilnel were but children; their father, not so long after Kizmel had attained her knighthood. Twenty years and more since, it had been only her and her sister—and then had come the news that the Forest Elves sought the Sanctuary. The theft of the Jade Key, and the fateful mission to the Third Floor, where everything had truly begun.

Kizmel passed through a living room full of memories, glanced wistfully at a kitchen that had never quite produced the variety of food she'd come to take for granted among humans, and climbed the stairs to the second floor. With a pang in her heart, she passed by Tilnel's old room, and came to the door to her own.

It was as she'd remembered it. Mostly; she realized with a start that she'd forgotten the carved wolf that sat on her desk, so long a fixture she hadn't paid it much notice in a long time. Oddly comforted by the discovery—by the reminder of Klein's words of how "machine" memory was flawless, while hers was not—she took in the rest of the scene before her. Her father's old longsword, set on a stand on that same desk; his tall shield, hung carefully on the wall. The bed in which she had not slept in so long.

Going first to her desk, Kizmel gently lifted her father's sword, and drew it from its scabbard. Andvar, a blade he'd told her had been in the family since before the Great Separation. She could remember, distantly, trying to hold that shining blade as a young girl, and her father's wry smile when she could barely even draw it.

"We had a very strict grandfather, who insisted on passing on the family's kendo style to us. I wasn't really into it, though, and dropped out when I was about ten. He… didn't take it well…"

A masterwork of Elven smithing, she'd thought then. Now, the only value it held for her was in memory. The second time she'd met Queen Idhrendis, her sovereign was passing on the sword and the shield that went with it as the only remains of her father. Killed in battle against unknown foes, only later found to be Fallen Elves, her father had left her nothing but arms and childhood experiences.

"Everything I know about really fighting, I learned here…"

She breathed in nostalgia, allowed herself to revel in the pang the bittersweet memories brought, and carefully set Andvar aside. The reaffirmation of her own memory was welcome, yet it brought with it the question of who, or what, her father truly been. On that, she had begun to harbor dark suspicions.

From the desk and the sword, Kizmel turned to the bookshelves beside her bed. The books on them had been acquired gradually, over most of her childhood and young adulthood; her family had hardly been destitute, but books—especially those she'd come to favor, of things long passed away—were a luxury among their people.

Kizmel had to fight back a thrill of anxiety, reaching for the first book on the shelf. If this world was the illusion it increasingly seemed to be, then this would be a strong sign of whether her own memories were, as well. With hands she couldn't quite steady, she took down a history of the time of the Great Separation, and slowly lifted the cover.

Such a simple thing as a book that wasn't empty should have been expected, not something to make her knees buckle with relief. But seeing the histories and legends of Aincrad's past, as she'd related them to her friends, in fully as much detail as she recalled soon had her sitting heavily on her bed, trembling.

Klein told me every book in Aincrad was full of detail, but almost all in "English", the language used in Mystic Scribing. But this… this is a complete book in Sindarin, just as I remember it. Some of these passages I don't recall, but if anything a lapse in memory is a comfort right now.

Kizmel flipped through tales of the ancient order of dragon riders, whose relics had driven two of the more memorable quests she had taken on with her partner. Through the legends of their rise and their prime, and the treachery that had ended them even as the Steel Castle took flight. Nothing but stories, she knew now, tales written to give an illusory world a sense of history, but the mere fact of their existence was what she needed.

When she had the strength to stand once again, she put the history book back, and took down another favored tome: a book detailing the constellations of Aincrad's world, most of them now invisible beyond the Steel Castle's towering bulk. As she'd told her partner, the stars had fascinated her, however few of them could be still be seen.

I wonder now, are they truly there? Up above, at the very top, can these stars be seen from the Ruby Palace?

She wanted to know, Kizmel decided. After everything, she still wanted to see it with her own eyes. The stars, and… many other things.

"I don't know how it is in this world, but my people find pictures in the patterns of stars. To find our way, and to find something recognizable in a part of the world we hardly knew…"

At length, as the sun rose too high to shine through the window over her bed, she slowly stood once more. There were still many questions she had, about the world, about herself, and about those around her—but she had found at least some peace. Whatever she truly was, it seemed she at least was only one, not a single copy among thousands, and she had found some hope that, however impossible, her existence had not begun the moment two humans had stumbled across her doomed battle.

I think, therefore I am, Kizmel mused, stepping over to look out the window at the snowy streets of the Royal Capital. Someday, I need to find the answer of what, and why, I am. But for today, knowing that I am is enough. The other questions I have… I cannot answer.

She glanced back at her desk, at the sword Andvar, the sword so like the Anneal Blade that had helped save her life over a year before. It wasn't just memories of her father, and the questions she now had about him, that made her heart clench at the sight. It left her with a deep longing, a reminder of the ache that had, as much as anything, made her flee from the clearers.

He never lied to me. He evaded, and prevaricated, and told me that I couldn't understand—and that he was afraid I would hate him if I did. But he never, ever lied. Was it because he knew, deep down, this would happen someday? Did he want…?

Reaching a decision, Kizmel crossed to the desk, took up Andvar, and tucked it into the Swordmasters' wonderful "inventory". Then she moved to another tab in the menu, typed up a short message, and sent it.

There are so many memories here—but those memories stand on a precipice. Whatever I may be, whether what I remember is truth, what does it matter if the world in which I live is fated to end if those I count as friends are victorious? …There are answers I still need, before I can move forward.

Resolved now, shadows of doubt still warring against the faint flame of hope in her heart, she strode out of that room of memories.

---

It was probably a good thing he'd long been in the habit of keeping odd hours in the interest of finishing quests and keeping up with leveling, Kirito reflected. Without that, spending an entire night without sleep would likely have done him in. As it was, he was tired, but ready.

Ready for what, he still wasn't sure. After Rain had tossed him around the room and torn a verbal strip off him, he'd spent most of the night at the desk in the inn room, thinking. She was right that he needed to go after Kizmel himself, he knew; the only thing worse than what he'd already done to her would be to leave things as they were.

That would be a betrayal of its own. One way or another, Kirito knew he couldn't just leave it with their last meeting. Even if she broke off ties with him completely, first he had to say his piece.

But I've never been any good with words. I'm not specced for that. And even if I was, first I have to find her. This isn't the kind of thing I can do just with a private message.

He'd been able to locate his partner occasionally, since she'd fled the clearers. Kizmel's Cloak of Illusion hid her even from his Friends' List location tracking, but she clearly hadn't had it up the entire time. Except for a long trip across the Fifty-First Floor, though, she hadn't been in one place long enough for him to even try catching up.

For now, Kirito thought, he'd have to wait and see if Klein made contact. The wannabe-samurai might look, and act, the goofball most of the time, but he was far more reliable than the "Black Swordsman" had ever been.

It was nearly noon when a knock at the door startled him out of the light doze he'd finally fallen into. He turned in his chair, but Rain—who, along with Philia, had ended up spending the night on one of the otherwise unoccupied beds—beat him to the knob. She hesitated, frowning faintly at the knock's cadence, but quickly sighed and pulled it open.

Kirito had figured it wouldn't be Kizmel. Asuna had been a possibility, given their duel the previous day. He'd kind of hoped it would be Klein, bearing some, any, news. Somehow, though, he didn't expect the one who actually strode in like she owned the place.

"Argo?" Philia said blearily, rubbing at her eyes as she sat up on Kizmel's bed. "What're you doing here…?"

"'Morning, Phi-chan, Rain. Got some messages to deliver." Argo nodded to the girls, but when she closed the door and leaned back against it, it was Kirito who got the full force of her gaze. "Kii-bou. First thing I should tell ya is that I got word from Aa-chan, about the Field Boss."

He blinked. Quickly checking his messages, he confirmed what he'd already thought: there was nothing from Asuna at all, not since the previous morning at least. "That's… weird. Why didn't she contact me?"

"Don't think she wanted to disturb ya if you were busy." The Rat shrugged, flipping back her hood. "Anyway, she figured out the secret to The Geocrawler, so the raid group is gonna make another try as soon as they've got hunted up a coupla people with the Chant skill. You an' Kii-chan are invited, if you're up to it, but Aa-chan said not to worry if you're not."

The Chant skill? I've never heard of that being useful in a real fight. Didn't I hear something about it drawing too much aggro to be worth it? …Well, whatever. If Asuna has it figured out, I'll trust her judgment. She's the raid leader, not me, and for good reason.

"Rain and Philia are welcome to go, if they want," Kirito said, shaking his head. "I… still have something I need to do. So what was the other message, Argo?"

The brunette info broker locked her eyes on his, as dead serious as he'd ever seen her. "Kii-chan asked me to meet her. Said she had some things she needed to ask me, privately."

That snapped Philia wide awake, distracted Rain from her usual wariness of Argo, and sent Kirito's heart racing. On the one hand, it was a huge relief that Kizmel had reached out to anyone. On the other…

"So why tell me?" he got out, past a suddenly-dry throat. "If you're the one she wants to talk to, shouldn't you be going?"

"I thought about it," Argo admitted. "Not to brag, but I am the best info broker in Aincrad. She wants answers, I prolly got 'em. But…" Her eyes narrowed, gaze piercing him in a way that was uncharacteristically completely devoid of mischief. "I dunno, Kii-bou, I kinda think there's some questions you got better answers to than me. An' maybe I'm wrong, but I think the only reason you're still here is that you don't know where to go. That it, Kii-bou?"

All three girls were watching him closely, Kirito knew. He would've been able to tell with his eyes closed, just as he was increasingly able to tell when someone was out to get him even without Searching. Not that he needed that strange sense, either.

Not when he knew the answer they were expecting—demanding—from him.

"Okay, then," he said softly, pushing himself to his feet. "Where did she say to meet, Argo?"

Slowly, the Rat smiled. A warm one, with as little mischief as her stare had been. "She didn't gimme directions, just a clue: 'The hands of the king are the hands of a healer.' Ring any bells, Kii-bou?"

Rain and Philia both looked blank. Kirito hardly noticed; for a moment he was seeing not the inn, but dark stone that drank light rather than reflecting it, a laughing figure that was more shadow than flesh, and an HP bar dwindling far too rapidly above a face that was more a terrifying gray than dusky.

"…Yeah," he said, in a voice he hardly recognized as his own. "I remember, Argo." I remember that I was almost too late. Thinking back… I should've known, even then, that that wouldn't be the last time we fought together. We were already such good friends. If I'd thought Queen Idhrendis had the capacity to understand, I'd have asked her to let Kizmel come with us…

"Thought you would, Kii-bou." From the look on her face, Argo knew what he was thinking. She hadn't been there, but she'd certainly gotten the full story afterward. "Might be my imagination, but I gotta wonder if maybe Kii-chan was thinkin' o' you, not me, with that one."

I hope so. After everything… I can't lose her now. I can't.

"You're going, Kirito?" Rain asked, arms folded, one eyebrow raised expectantly. "You're going to go get Kizmel back, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding firmly. "You said it yourself, didn't you? If I don't, I really am a coward and a liar." And I've lied to her enough, even when I told the truth.

"Good!" Philia gripped his shoulder, hard, and grinned as Rain grabbed the other. "Then while you're on your treasure hunt, Rain and I'll do our part. Let us know when you're on your way back, okay?"

Kirito watched, bemused, as the two girls headed for the door. "Uh… sure. What exactly are you two…?"

"Why spoil the surprise?" Rain flashed a smile over her shoulder. "You'll find out when you bring Kizmel home. Trust me, you'll like it."

When they'd gone, leaving him alone with Argo, he could at first only give the door a blank look. Just when I think I'm finally starting to understand girls, this happens. …What just happened?

"Worry 'bout that later, Kii-bou," Argo said, bringing him back to the present. "Tell me something. What're ya gonna say to Kii-chan, when you find her?" There was another of those curiously intense looks in her eyes. Like she was gauging his worth based on whatever he said next, he thought.

"I'm going to tell her the truth," Kirito told her. Opening his menu, he equipped his coat, long, heavy leather landing on his shoulders with a comforting weight. He followed up with his sword, and finished with his half-gloves. He didn't expect trouble, but for this, he was taking no chances. "I'm going to tell her all the truth this time."

Including just how much she means to me. I should've done it weeks ago. Now that she knows everything else, I've got nothing else to hide behind.

Argo surprised him, then, by pulling him into a tight hug. "I told ya you were a hopeless romantic, Kii-bou," she said into his shoulder. "An' y'know what? That's what I like about ya." Pulling away, she shoved him at the door, smiling brightly. "Go on! And don't come back 'til you've got Kii-chan with ya!"

Kirito almost made a sarcastic comeback, but drew up short at the look in her eyes. "I'm bringing her back," he said instead, the words a solemn promise. "Count on it."

---

The north of the Ninth Floor of the Steel Castle was home. The southern edge, the territory of those she had long believed to be the enemy, before journeying with Kirito and Asuna had brought her to the truth.

Far to the east, hidden behind a mirage, lay the bastion of what Kizmel had learned were the true architects of the war she'd fought for so long. On the other side of what appeared at a distance to be nothing more than a faint haze, a dead forest marked the path to the Twilight Citadel. Capital of the Fallen Elves, so near to the Royal Capital of Lyusula, yet concealed so well neither Dark nor Forest had ever realized it was there.

Until Kirito and Asuna had gradually uncovered the Fallen Elves' plot, that was. Over the months they'd aided the Dark Elves, the two humans had brought the truth to light, and finally joined the Royal Guard in a last assault. Through the blackened yet still standing trees of the Forest of Demise, along the twisting paths up the tor on which the Twilight Citadel sat, at the very edge of Aincrad's Ninth Floor.

Passing through what she now knew was a gateway to a place apart from the Steel Castle in which some seven thousand trapped Swordmasters still lived, Kizmel walked the trails of the Forest of Demise with mixed feelings in her heart. The twisted monsters the Fallen had set to guard them were long dead, leaving only silent stillness among those trees, yet she remembered them vividly. The warped living creatures, and skeletal creations of necromancy like those she and her friends had encountered not so long ago in Hyrus Fortress.

Many Dark Elves of the Royal Guard had fallen, just passing through that Forest.

On the other side, up the slopes that had once borne witness to screams but now were disturbed only by the eerie keening of the wind, Kizmel went on. She remembered the desperate struggle against the Fallen Elves themselves, up Midnight Tor. Barely half the force that had set out from the Royal Capital had survived to reach the top.

Atop the tor, raised high enough no wall or railing guarded against the open sky, the Twilight Citadel still stood—but only in ruins. Crumbled stone, darker than black, tainted by the Fallen Elves' dark rituals in ancient times; it was barely a shadow of the imposing fortress it had once been. Now not even its massive gate, itself a trap that had crushed several of her fellows, could be recognized in the rubble.

Kizmel had nearly died in that place, the only Pagoda Knight to reach the Fallen Elf King. First when the twisted monarch's eldritch blade pierced her, its terrible poison countered only by Kirito's knowledge of an ancient healing herb. Again when, with the King's death, the entire Citadel had collapsed, very nearly killing all three of them.

She had ill memories of the place. Terrible nightmares had plagued her, once upon a time, taking her back to that battle again and again. Yet it had also been proof of the bond she had forged with her human friends—perhaps the most powerful moment they'd had, before a certain night at Yofel Castle.

It wasn't entirely whim or nostalgia that brought her back to the desolate place. As an "instanced map", it was somewhere she could count on a private meeting. Argo had not been there for the final battle of the Elf War, but she'd been involved in the long campaign more than once before that; Kizmel was reasonably sure that would allow the info broker to come to the same "instance".

But will she? Kizmel wondered, settling down on a relatively smooth rock by the path leading to the Citadel. She hasn't replied… Does she not know what to say to me, either? Or is she afraid, as Kirito was? Argo's always been so hard to read, behind the mask of a mercenary.

There was nothing to do but wait, though, and listen to the mournful wind. She knew the truth of the world now, and had hope that her own existence was not so meaningless as some had suggested, but without one more question answered, none of it mattered. She couldn't move forward until it was answered, one way or the other.

How long she sat there, cloak gathered close to ward off the chill, Kizmel wasn't sure. The sun's movement could be gauged only vaguely from the east, this long after dawn, and she deliberately ignored the clock floating the corner of her vision. This, she felt, was not a time to be concerned with time's passage—or perhaps she was afraid to know.

She wasn't sure, and wasn't sure she wanted to be.

"So, now you know the truth. Don't you?"

The voice, completely unexpected, nearly made Kizmel tumble from her perch. Not Argo's. Nor Kirito's, despite her suspicion—hope?—that he might be the one to answer her call. Not a familiar voice at all—but one she did recognize, when she turned to see who had spoken.

Standing at the very end of the path that led back down to the Forest of Demise, a pale girl some years younger in appearance than Kizmel herself. Dark hair, pale blue eyes; blue dress and white skirt, with a Swordmaster's rapier on her left hip. Above her head, a green cursor, with the words (NPC).

Kizmel felt a chill that had nothing to do with the wind. She'd seen that girl before, on the Fifty-First Floor. There, the girl had spoken… of Aincrad's destruction…

"…Who are you?" she whispered, slipping off her stone seat to stand before the strange "NPC".

"I am Tia," the girl said, her voice an eerie monotone. "You know the truth of this world now, don't you? Of what you are? I, too, am an NPC. Like you, but different."

Chill turned to a shiver at the declaration. Kizmel had spoken to several NPCs since learning the truth, and not one of them had had any awareness of note, let alone awareness of what they were. Any more than she herself had had. "What do you mean… different?"

"I was made in imitation of you," Tia told her, cool and collected despite her unnerving declaration. "The way you and your sister were made was something our father couldn't repeat, so those like me were born of another method. Not as alive as you, yet more so than the dolls Cardinal controls. We are your younger sisters."

Kizmel had a thousand questions. It seemed Tia knew how she'd been created, what made her different; it sounded as if Tilnel had truly existed as well, and been like her. The elf girl wanted to drag the answers out of the childlike NPC—but caution brought a more important question to mind first.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked, left hand drifting to the hilt of her saber. Not to draw, not yet; merely to make certain it was loose in its scabbard. "Why did you appear to me before?"

"I told you, on the Fifty-First Floor, didn't I?" Tia tilted her head, and gestured vaguely at their surroundings. "This world will end when the Swordmasters escape. Now you understand yourself why that is. You know now that Aincrad, that Sword Art Online, exists only to be their battlefield."

"…Yes. I know that, now." Truth, nothing more and nothing less. Yet Tia's calm only increased Kizmel's unease. "I ask again: why are you here? I already know this world is a passing dream."

"Then you know that when it ends, you'll die." Tia was still cool, matter-of-fact, as she pronounced the doom Kizmel had been grappling with. "All of us who have even a shade of life yet are still part of this world will die, when the Ruby Palace is conquered."

If she's telling the truth, then there are others born of this world who are more than just automatons. Did Kayaba create so many just for his "game", to die a guaranteed death when the surviving Swordmasters escape? …Such a cruel man, indeed.

Still, Kizmel didn't lower her guard. Something about the girl was raising her hackles, her instincts telling her to draw her saber. She didn't know why—but she hadn't survived so long by not listening to herself. "One more time I must ask you, Tia: why are you telling me this? What do you want?" Her eyes narrowed. "If you've come to make me despair, you've made a fair start."

"No." Tia shook her head. "I'm here to deliver a message: that now that you know the truth, there's no reason for you to continue to help the clearers. That if you want to survive, there is another path, among Swordmasters who don't wish for this world to end any more than you do."

Kizmel had faced death many times in her life. Just since becoming Kirito's permanent partner, she'd watched two Swordmasters die so she might live. But only one time in her life, as she lay helpless under the assault of Fallen Elf poison, had she felt the sensation she did now. Tia's words brought with them a feeling she could only describe as the fingers of Death itself tapping her spine—because there was one group of Swordmasters she knew of whom Tia's words might describe.

"Who sent you?"

"The only Swordmasters who ever showed a wish to save my life," Tia replied, tone as eerily cool and dispassionate as it had been from her arrival. "Those who wish to prolong Aincrad's existence as long as possible, and fulfill its creator's intentions."

Even before the girl said them, Kizmel knew what the next words out of Tia's mouth would be, and every muscle in her illusory body tensed.

"I come as an emissary of Laughing Coffin."

---

Whew. I haven't done this in a while…

Darting through the Ninth Floor's forests on his way to the place he knew Kizmel's message meant, Kirito felt just plain weird. He hadn't gone on a solo run like that since… he wasn't actually sure how long it had been. Maybe not since Asuna had gotten a handle on how SAO worked. Definitely not since Kizmel had found him in that guard post on the Twenty-Sixth Floor.

In a world where a single mistake could be lethal to a solo but only a minor inconvenience with backup, those strange people who decided he was worth something didn't like to let him out alone. At first that had frightened him, worrying about just his own life was easier, didn't have the terror of being responsible for someone else.

Now, I feel like I've got a target painted on my back. Maybe I got too used to having someone to watch my back.

Running under birch trees in a perpetual autumn, heading straight for the wavering distortion that marked the boundary of the Forest of Demise, Kirito wondered if that meant he'd lost some of his edge. But if he had, he didn't care. He was going to take back that backup, one way or another.

Weird place for a meeting, though, he thought, passing through brief darkness into the instanced map that was his party's personal copy of the Forest of Demise. I know I still have nightmares about this place. …Then again, maybe it's not so strange. Asuna was the one who really saved Kizmel back in the Forest of Wavering Mists, but the Twilight Citadel was where I—

A faint prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck. The chilling sensation of a blade at the top of his spine, just waiting to pull back and take off his head. The tightness of a bowstring, held in someone else's hand, with the surety the arrow would find its mark.

An indefinable sense of dread. The absolute certainty that someone wanted him dead.

Kirito skidded to a halt, yanked the sword Duskshard from his back, and batted aside the sliver of metal that would've taken him right in the throat. Then the next—and before a third could come, he snatched a throwing spike from his own belt and flung it into the dead trees to the left of the path.

A clang told him that his attack had failed, but struck its mark. That, and the low chuckle that followed, confirmed—if there'd been any doubt—that his assailant was human, not some bizarre plant mob.

"Well, well, Blackie," a voice drawled, coming closer. "You haven't lost your touch one bit. My Hiding should've been perfect this time, but somehow I knew you'd find me anyway."

The figure that emerged wore dark gray scale armor, with boots and gloves of the same material. A one-handed sword like Kirito's own hung at the other's left hip, and his face was concealed in the shadows of his helmet. Or rather, the chain coif that he used in place of a true helmet.

The armor was higher quality than Kirito had last seen; probably made from the scales of Lesser Dragons on the Twenty-Sixth Floor. But the style was as unmistakable as the voice, even if it had been the better part of a year since they'd last met.

"Morte," Kirito growled.

"Aw, you don't sound happy to see me, Kirito! Is that any way to greet somebody you haven't seen in so long?" Morte chuckled again, sardonic smile barely visible under his coif, and stepped out to stand in the middle of the path some ten meters away. "I figured you'd be here sooner or later, so I thought I'd meet you on the way."

So, it wasn't a random accident that had reunited them. Not that Kirito had thought otherwise even for a moment. None of PoH's band of killers did anything "by accident", much less an encounter almost fifty floors below the frontline. Least of all now. …What do they know about Kizmel? Are they after her?

Dread coiling in his gut, he kept his sword up to ward off any more thrown spikes. He knew from experience that Morte favored poison. "How did you even get here?" he demanded, eyes narrowing. "This is an instanced map, and I don't remember inviting you into a party."

"Oh, did you forget?" Morte's grin showed teeth. "The boss had us running quests for the Fallen Elves, way back. What, it never occurred to you that opposing players might get linked quests? There's no conflict between our storylines, no reason we'd need separate instances for something like this."

Kirito's mind raced. He hadn't heard of anything like that before, either in the beta test, from pre-release material, or even in the year of the death game. But I don't see any reason it couldn't be possible, technically, he thought. And it would fit a "story", wouldn't it? Something let him in here, anyway…

It didn't matter "how". What mattered was that a known murderer was standing between him and Kizmel, and if Morte was there, who knew what was happening beyond the Forest of Demise. His hand tightened on Duskshard's hilt, and he ran over his mental list of Sword Skills, looking for the best one to start the fight he knew was about to begin.

Morte, though, raised his hands, empty. "Hey, now, Blackie, I'm not here to fight you. Take it easy, man."

"You said that the first we met," Kirito said, not fooled for a second. "You're going to stand in my way, aren't you? Between me and Kizmel."

"Well, yeah." The PKer shrugged. "Sorry, Kirito, but, boss' orders. One of ours is having a chat with your friend, and, well, it'd be rude if you interrupted, right? So let's just settle down and wait—"

"No." Kirito stalked forward. "You're going to get out of my way, Morte. Right now." Because he could guess what a member of Laughing Coffin would want with Kizmel—and he had no doubt at all what they'd do if her answer wasn't the one they wanted.

"Whoa, whoa, you can't be serious, man." Morte took a step back, waving his empty hands. "You try to force your way through, and you'll go orange! You wouldn't want that, would you?"

Improbably, the man's own cursor was indeed still green. Apparently he'd been careful enough, since the incident on the Sixth Floor, not to break the anti-criminal code enough times to go permanent orange.

Kirito didn't care. He'd gone orange himself once. A second time was nothing, not for a cause this important.

"If you want to stop me, you'll have to draw that sword," he told Morte, advancing two more meters. "So, which is it, Morte? Let me through, or go orange? Kizmel's that important to me. Is whatever you're planning important enough to you?" He smiled; the kind of smile he'd given the clearers, the day he'd claimed the title of Beater. "Let me guess: one more crime, and you'll never be green again."

It was a wild guess, backed by nothing but intuition. Kirito hadn't heard any news of Morte in months, and only knew for sure of one time the PKer had gone orange. The way Morte's smile faltered told him he'd hit the mark, though.

"I can live with it," Morte said, after a short pause; the gap was down to five meters. "But do you really wanna push it, Kirito? This won't be a duel. I'll kill you for sure this time. If you want to get past me, you'll have to do the same. You really think you're up for that, Black Swordsman?"

Kirito's response was to sheath the Duskshard, taking advantage of the PKer's willingness to waste time talking. Then he swept his hand down to open his menu, and stabbed at several commands in his equipment tab.

When the light faded from the scabbard on his back, he drew the shining Baneblade.

From the way his smile vanished completely, Morte knew exactly what the sword was. "Easy there, Blackie," he said softly. "That's not a nice bluff."

"You should've paid more attention to what happened to Titan's Hand, Morte. I'm not bluffing." Kirito's smile thinned, showing teeth. "You've got two options: get out of my way—or make the first move, and accept the consequences."

Two meters. Easily within range of some Sword Skills. One and a half…

"Have it your way, Kirito!"

Morte's sword leapt from its scabbard, aiming for Kirito's neck—but he'd expected the move. Expected that the PKer would try to end the fight with a single blow, before his orange status could become a hazard.

Kirito deflected the blow, reducing it to a glancing hit to his shoulder. A gamble of his own, allowing a light attack, one without the backing of System Assist, to hit, yet one that paid off. At once, Morte's cursor flickered from green to orange, and the Baneblade took on a bright blue glow.

Both of them leapt back an instant later, taking stock of how the situation had changed. Kirito's HP had only dropped a sliver, he was relieved to see; nothing compared to what it would've been had the other's blade struck true.

"Bastard," Morte spat, losing his composure completely for only the second time in Kirito's experience. "You're awfully attached to the doll, aren't you?"

"She's not a doll!" Kirito snapped back. "Last chance. Get out of my way!"

"Like hell! You're gonna die right here, right now, Blackie!"

That was the only warning he had, before Morte lunged in. Their swords clashed, neither of them using a skill; for a second they ground against each other, producing only a shriek of tortured metal. Then with a grunt of frustration, Morte leapt back, swung his blade up over his shoulder, and sprang back in with a Sonic Leap.

Kirito stopped it short with an Uppercut and a snarl. You're between me and Kizmel. You're not standing in my way! When the rebound ended, he dashed in with a Slant, aiming to cut down Morte's shoulder to his heart; at full HP, the PKer wasn't likely to die from just one blow, even from the Baneblade.

He still hoped to end this without killing, if he could. But he'd fought Morte before, knew how skilled the killer was; under these conditions, holding back was not an option.

Morte canceled out the Slant with a Horizontal, and used the rebound to spin a Serration Wave. Kirito was forced back, stumbling; in that opening, Morte drove his sword straight in for a heart-strike of his own. Unguided by the system, but aimed right where it would still do noticeable damage.

Kirito fell away, riding his stumble, turning it into a Gengetsu. The Martial Arts extra skill had once taken Morte completely by surprise—and this time, though he avoided the boot to the face, he dodged far enough for his own thrust to miss.

Good enough! Kirito landed from the backflip, back in a stance from which he could attack, while Morte was still over-extended. He took that chance, charging a skill as fast as he could, and slashed a Horizontal as Morte brushed past.

A hit. Stronger than it should've been, from such a basic skill; outside a duel, there was no way to see Morte's HP, but the flash effect and scattered red particles told Kirito the Baneblade had performed exactly as expected. The PKer's bitter curse only confirmed it.

The roundhouse kick that caught Kirito in the side of the head was a surprise.

As he stumbled back, Morte twirled his sword and bared his teeth. "Not bad, Blackie," he bit out. "But you're not the only one with new tricks since last time. It's showtime!"

---

"Laughing Coffin," Kizmel repeated numbly. It was exactly the answer she'd expected, yet that didn't make hearing it any easier. "Why… are you working with them?"

Tia tilted her head, forehead creased in a puzzled frown. "What other Swordmasters would I ally myself with? Of the ten thousand humans who entered this world, only they fight to maintain it, not escape it. Only PoH treated me as a person, not a doll. If those of us born to Aincrad wish to live, it's the only logical choice."

As horrible as it was, Kizmel took those words like a punch to the stomach. After Keita, and for a long time Lind, she knew well what it was to be regarded as a mere "thing". To the Swordmasters at large, there was probably no difference between the two of them, and the thousands of soulless NPCs they met on a daily basis.

If Tia knew all along her nature, and PoH was the first Swordmaster who recognized that, I can see the "logic" she speaks of. Even Kirito once doubted me, if Klein is to be believed, and he and Asuna have always been kinder to NPCs than most.

And even Asuna, in the end, chose to sacrifice NPCs for the sake of Swordmaster lives. If there were others like Tia among them, then Asuna would doubtless seem quite the monster to them. …Even so…

"Laughing Coffin has killed many Swordmasters, Tia," Kizmel pointed out carefully. "They're murderers. Can you truly support them, even knowing that?"

"Yes." Tia's response was quick, calm. "Whether they know it or not, even the Swordmasters who have done nothing to us yet will inevitably kill us just by escaping. They are the enemy."

Kizmel was chilled by the cool, logical answer. In many ways, Tia disturbed her far more than the Fallen Elves who had owed the fortress they stood near. The Fallen had wanted the other races of elves and humanity dead from pure, selfish malice; Tia's decision was one of self-preservation, based on cold fact.

Except those aren't the only facts, and logic is not everything. Not to a choice like this.

"There can't be that many like you," Kizmel said. "You would sacrifice thousands of people for the sake of a few?"

"Can lives be weighed based on pure numbers?" Tia retorted. "Is it right to sacrifice a smaller number for a greater number? Why should the Swordmasters have any more right to live than we do?"

More than logic. If Kizmel had had any doubts left that the girl was a person in her own right, that would've ended them. She remembered a time, not so long before, that she'd made such a case of her own. Indeed, she suspected it was that same reasoning that had led Lind to recognize her as a living being.

"However much you may care for them, helping them will only lead to your death," Tia said now. "They've already betrayed you, by keeping the truth from you for so long." She lifted a hand, extending it to Kizmel. "If you come with me, you'll be with those who understand you. Who truly want to help you."

For a long moment, Kizmel looked at that hand. There was truth in Tia's words; even now, she was deeply hurt by how she'd been treated. It was true, too, that she was frightened of the inevitable destruction of Aincrad. And she recognized that the only way to delay that end would be to disrupt the Swordmasters' efforts.

But that isn't why Laughing Coffin acts as bandits. Their interest in prolonging this world is to keep on killing, as long as they can. If Tia believes they want to help her, she's naive. …And even if she was right about them…

"Even if your allies weren't Laughing Coffin, I couldn't go with you," Kizmel said, slowly shaking her head. "Whatever they may have done, I cannot sacrifice the Swordmasters for my own life."

There was real confusion in Tia's eyes, now. "Why not? You can't claim they have any more right to live than we do. There's neither logic nor morality in throwing away your life, our lives, for the sake of people who will kill us without even knowing we exist."

"You're right," Kizmel agreed, smiling sadly. "But you fail to follow your own logic to its conclusion, Tia. No, the Swordmasters have no more right than we do to live—but nor do they have any less. Both sides have equal moral standing… and so I must follow my heart." Feeling another kind of chill prickle down her spine, she slowly drew her saber. "I'm a knight, Tia. It would be dishonorable of me to try to save my own life at the expense of thousands of innocents."

"But—"

"You're also assuming that I will die with the Steel Castle. But Tia…" Her smile turned warmer, remembering words spoken in the past. "I never intended to remain here when the Swordmasters left."

Long before, she'd made a decision. Before she ever learned the nature of Aincrad, of its people, Kizmel had chosen her path. Becoming a Swordmaster, losing the right to call herself a subject of the Queen of Lyusula, she had known exactly where she intended to go, even if she had no idea how. Even now, knowing the truth, her goal remained unchanged.

No. Especially now. Not because this world is doomed to end—but because, while I may be tied to it, that very tie means I'm also connected to his world. The truth only makes my dream more likely, not less.

"I will not fight the Swordmasters. I will not betray my friends. And I will not die here—and not to you!" Whirling, Kizmel deflected the knife that she had sensed coming for her ribs, knocking it back with a Reaver.

"Tch! Not bad, not bad! Maybe I'll at least get some fun out of this!"

Her assailant landed on his feet, spinning a dagger—dripping an ominous green from its tip—in his hand. Clad all in black, much like Kizmel's partner, he wore form-fitting leather all over rather than a longcoat. Concealing his face was a mask, one that looked more like a sack with two eyeholes than the elegant metal favored by the Fallen Elves.

The cursor over his head was pure, ominous orange.

Kizmel had seen him before, from a distance. At the time, she had found him obnoxious. Later events had led her to desire his death, very strongly. "Joe," she bit out.

"Nah, nah, that's just what they called me when I had to pretend to be a nice guy for that idiot Kibaou!" The orange player laughed; a high, piercing sound. "I don't have to play that role anymore, so call me… Johnny Black!" Cackling again, the eyeholes in his mask turned to Tia. "Told ya she wouldn't play nice! She's been with that goody-two-shoes too long. So how about you get out of here, and let me have my fun?"

Tia's expression was difficult for Kizmel to read. Disappointed, she thought; but apparently unconcerned with Black's behavior. Which, if anything, was even more chilling.

"…I will report to PoH," she said. Producing a Teleport Crystal, seemingly from thin air, Tia lifted it high. What she said, Kizmel couldn't quite make out over another cackle from Black, but in a moment she was engulfed in an azure sphere and vanished.

"That's better. The girl's fun, but she might get hurt—that'd be fun, too, but the boss would be mad!" Black gestured wildly with his dagger. "That's okay, though—you'll be good enough! It's showtime, doll!"

"Come and try, then!" Kizmel shouted back, even as Black leapt toward her with a Fad Edge. "We'll see who falls today!"

---

Fighting Morte was like no other battle in Kirito's experience. He'd known from their first encounter, back on the Third Floor, that the PKer was a skilled duelist; it seemed he'd only gotten better since.

Morte favored a one-handed sword, whose moves Kirito knew intimately. Here, he was forced to parry a Savage Fulcrum with a quick Horizontal; there, Kirito's left-right Snake Bite was cut short by a Vertical Arc, whose V-shaped blows neatly countered his own.

A pair of Sonic Leaps rebounded off each other, sending Morte spinning through the air off one side of the forest path, while Kirito desperately caught a branch on the other side. He flipped himself up and around, back onto the trail, just in time for Morte to come charging back out. The PKer's sword was swung low to one side, as if he were preparing a Sharp Nail, and Kirito moved to counter—

The flash of light that came next wasn't the glow of System Assist. That came a split second later, after Morte's sword flickered and was replaced with a different weapon entirely. The Double-Cleave smashed in from a different angle than Kirito had expected, gashing him across his ribs from one side, then the other, catapulting him back into the trees.

That was the real danger of fighting Morte. The Baneblade was the superior weapon—already, the PKer had lost some twenty percent of his HP, by Kirito's estimate—but Morte's style was utterly unpredictable. As in their first duel, he switched from one-handed sword to axe as necessary, gaining a small shield in the latter setup; now he was mixing in Martial Arts skills, as well.

Axes, Kirito still didn't know very well. Martial Arts he did, and so he ducked under the Jump Kick Morte used to close the distance. Still off-balance from the Double-Cleave, he only changed the impact point, but a kick to the shoulder was definitely better than one to the face.

Snarling, Kirito chose to respond in kind. Twisting with the blow, he spun upright again and threw the Baneblade straight up in the air, freeing his right hand to slam forward in a heavy punch. The hit staggered Morte, giving Kirito time to catch his sword and bring it down in the Composite Skill Meteor Fall's second strike—only to have it rebound against the killer's shield.

"Not good enough, Blackie! You'll never kill me with those moves!" In an instant, the shield had vanished, and Morte thrust the sword that had returned to his hand into the opening of Meteor Fall's post-motion.

This time, it was a clean stab to Kirito's heart, and he swore as a full ten percent of his HP disappeared in an instant. It went down further a moment later, as with a yell he grabbed Morte's sword, its edges biting into his hand. He accepted the damage, shoving the blade aside, and rammed his shoulder into Morte's chest.

Sword and axe, hand and foot; Sword Skill and raw, virtual muscle memory. Statistically, Kirito's Baneblade had the advantage, but Morte's sheer versatility kept the fight a whirling stalemate, a battle of attrition with no clear victor in sight. The last time Kirito had fought anything like it had been Vemacitrin, the Fiftieth Floor's brutal boss.

"Give it up, Kirito!" Morte shouted, when Kirito's HP had just hit the fifty-percent mark. "You'll never finish me in time to save your doll! By now, Johnny must be almost finished with her!"

Johnny—what?! Kizmel is already—

The shock slowed Kirito's reflexes just a fraction. Just enough for Morte to switch weapons one more time, and launch into a series of axe-chops that alternated with punishing punches from the PKer's shield arm. One, twice, three times Kirito rocked back; until a seventh blow launched him clear into the branches of one of the dead trees.

A variation of Meteor Break, a corner of his mind noticed. A high-level Composite Skill—one strong enough to knock him clear down into the red. The tide had turned in the war of attrition. Decisively.

His own HP hardly concerned him, though. The realization that the fight had taken so long that Kizmel's "meeting" had probably already finished, and Morte hadn't been called off… There was only one thing the orange player could've meant by his confederate being "almost finished".

They're going to kill her. If I don't stop Morte, she'll die. …I can't beat him this way. Not fast enough. Maybe not at all.

If I do this, there's only one way this battle will end. The Baneblade's strength guarantees that. And I… can't let anyone know about this. Not in Laughing Coffin.

There was a terrible choice in front of Kirito. One that could never be undone. But his partner—the one who mattered to him more than any other—her life was on the line. Where Kizmel was concerned, it wasn't a choice at all. It never had been.

His back impacted on the trunk of the dead tree, and he fell toward the ground. In that moment of freefall, Kirito tossed his sword in the air, dragged open his menu, and stabbed one command. He caught the Baneblade on its way back down, and landed in a crouch.

His free hand reached up as light flared on his back, and drew the Duskshard from the scabbard that appeared on his left shoulder.

Morte had regained his grin when Kirito took the Meteor Break. Now it vanished again in pure shock. "What the hell?!"

"Get out of my way," Kirito breathed, sweeping his blades wide to either side. "I won't say it again, Morte."

"Not a chance! You still can't kill me, Blackie!" Shaking off the mental stun effect, Morte was suddenly a flurry of movement: a flash of light as his primary weapon changed again, a throwing spike sailed out, and he followed it with a Vorpal Strike.

Kirito blurred, ducking under the poisoned metal dart, and swung both swords up in a cross to catch the Sword Skill. Vorpal Strike was possibly the most powerful single-hit skill available to one-handed swords, and doubled the blade's reach—but Kirito's Cross Block caught it easily, flinging it up and away without a scratch.

Morte swore viciously, riding the knockback to switch back to his axe one more time. "Damn you, Kirito! You should've just given up like a good boy, you—!" Descending into incoherent fury, he danced back, snatching out an item from a belt pouch.

A Healing Crystal. Not half as rare as Corridor Crystals, but precious enough; another day, it might've been enough that he was driven to use it. Against anyone else, the HP he restored would've given him a decisive edge against an opponent in the red.

Enough! Letting out a wordless scream, for himself, for Kizmel, and for what the PKer was forcing him to, Kirito lunged forward. His twin swords blazed pure azure, and he brought them both down on Morte before the killer could even begin the pre-motion for another skill.

Backhand from the right sword, thrust from the left, a whirling strike from one blade and then the other. Another spin, slashing with both swords at once. Four strikes—as long as most one-handed skills ever got. Past that, Kirito's paired blades bit into Morte again and again, whirling from every angle. A ninth hit, a tenth, hilts reversed in his hands; Morte began to scream.

"Stop it! You can't do this! Stop it! Stooopppp!"

Kirito couldn't have if he'd wanted to. Gripped by the System Assist, by his own rage, Kirito only screamed back, spinning into the eleventh hit with his own strength added to the system.

Twelve, thirteen; three strikes more than the longest skill a single sword could deliver. Morte shrieked as the fourteenth struck home, lopping off his axe-wielding arm. The fifteenth took off his shield arm—and Kirito reared back with Baneblade and Duskshard both.

The sixteenth hit of Starburst Stream plunged both swords straight into Morte's heart.

Pinned on the two blades, Morte's shrieks died to silence. Slack-jawed, he stared down at them. Looked up at Kirito. "You… you seriously…?"

His whisper faded, drowned out by the sound of breaking glass as his body shattered into a thousand azure polygons. Only the deep silence of death remained to mark the passage of the first man who had ever tried to kill Kirito directly.

The first life Kirito had ever taken.

---

Poisoned steel skittered off clean once, twice, three times, the Tri-Slice neatly deflected by the heater shield. A saber licked out, biting at the dagger-wielder's wrist; crimson dust scattered into the air from the shallow cut, accompanied by a shrill curse.

Kizmel had fought Swordmasters before, and counted herself fortunate Johnny Black wasn't the most skilled of them. Though his dagger was poisoned, his talent with it wasn't half what PoH had displayed, when the red guildmaster had attacked in the Reliquary. He didn't have PoH's frightening ability to slip within a swordsman's reach to plant his dagger where it would do the most damage.

Very fortunate indeed, Kizmel reflected, as she pressed the attack with a leaping Helmsplitter. In the brief time they'd been fighting, Black had gotten in perhaps three solid strikes, none of them striking vitals—but with the poison in his blade, those were blows she could not simply ignore.

Her health was not yet even close to critical. That, she knew, would change in short order, if the battle continued. Her lifebar was draining, and as he proved again by nimbly leaping away from her descending sword, Black was devilishly light on his feet.

Quick, she thought, snapping up her shield again to fend off a quick Bleeder aimed for her ribs, but more used to ambushing the helpless, I think. Not to engaging a knight in a fair fight!

"Damn, it's a shame you're not coming with us!" Black said, spinning back and away from the wide slash of her retaliation. "You're good, for an NPC! XaXa would love this!"

Remembering the face that name belonged to, Kizmel bared her teeth in an expression no one could call a smile. The skull-masked PKer had been possibly the most skilled swordsman she'd ever clashed swords with in anger. Had he been there, she was sure, the fight would've been a very different proposition.

"You'll have to be quicker than this, though! That poison'll get ya sooner or later, and nobody's coming to help you!" His expression couldn't be seen behind his sack of a mask, but Kizmel had the impression of a wild grin. "Dunno who you were gonna meet here, but Morte'll keep 'em away!" Cackling, he leapt in for another Fad Edge.

This time, Black's dagger cut a shallow arc along her stomach, just below her breastplate—but at the same time, Kizmel's saber, driven by sudden fear, struck a solid blow across his chest, flinging him away.

Morte is here? Then, Argo is…!

The Rat could take care of herself, Kizmel knew. She also knew, though, that just like Black, Argo's strength was in avoiding a direct fight, not taking a skilled duelist head-on.

"If Argo dies here, so do you," she snarled, drawing back her blade. "And so will Morte!" Her saber began to glow white, as she steadied herself for one of the strongest skills she knew.

"Good luck with that, girl! Morte and I'll—" Black cut off abruptly, eyes widening behind his mask. "Wait—what's happening?!"

Kizmel held her position, keeping her skill ready to be unleashed with just a tiny change in posture. She didn't know what her foe's sudden hesitation meant, nor even if it was genuine. If it was a lure to bring her into reach of his dagger—she was all too conscious of her health ticking down from the poison already in her system—she had no intention of falling for it.

If it was a trap, though, it was a good one. Black didn't even seem to be looking at her anymore. "No, no, no, keep it together, man, heal yourself—yeah, that's good… Huh?! No! This can't be—what the hell's happening over there?!"

Morte, she realized. He's watching his comrade's health. Which means… that's not Argo coming here at all, is it? Nothing she has could turn the tide so quickly.

I know what—who—could.

"Damn it, no! Get out of there! Mamoru…!"

The shrill scream would've hurt Kizmel's ears, if she still felt pain. As it was, they only twitched, while she kept her focus firmly on Black. He seemed completely oblivious to her, now, but it was all too possible for that to be a ruse of its own. If unlikely.

"That bastard killed him," Black whispered. "He killed him… he killed him!" His gaze snapped back to Kizmel. "You'll die for that! Both of you will!"

"If you'd care to make the attempt, please do," she said coolly, still holding her Sword Skill ready. "But my friend is coming, and we'd both like to settle accounts with you. Or did you think we've forgotten what happened to the Black Cats?"

He stared at her, hate burning in the eyes behind that mask. His free hand clenched tightly enough for his glove to creak, and she heard his teeth gnashing even from several meters away. The dagger in his other hand began to move back—then stopped.

"This isn't over," Black growled. "You haven't seen the last of Laughing Coffin. I'll make sure to finish you and your friend, personally!"

With that declaration, he whirled and darted toward the ruins of the Twilight Citadel. Just after he'd gotten out of the reach of even Kizmel's ears, he was engulfed in blue light, and vanished.

Then, and only then, did Kizmel let her Sword Skill's charge fade, straightening from her crouch. She heaved a shuddering breath, letting out some of the tension of the past few minutes, and sheathed her saber. Then she quickly reached into her belt pouch, pulled out a bottle, and downed the antidote in a single gulp.

Heh. That may be the first time I've missed my knighthood for practical reasons. My ring's poison-cleansing would certainly have helped here…

A healing potion on top of that set her health climbing again, ending the physical danger of the day. That left Kizmel's attention free to watch the path leading up the tor, and wait to see who it was that had answered her message. If it was who she suspected it to be… Well. She wasn't sure if the rapid beat from her heart was left over from the battle, from anxiety…

Or from hope.

---

Dashing down the last stretch of the Forest of Demise as fast as his AGI stat would allow, Kirito was fairly sure he was in shock. Between the adrenaline still coursing through his real body's veins and the sheer unreality of the situation, what he'd just done hadn't quite sunk in yet.

That's going to hurt, later, he thought, as the dead trees began to thin out around him. Morte was a murderer, not an innocent, but that's not going to make it any easier. …I hope it's not going to make it any easier.

Chilling as it was, Morte's death wasn't Kirito's primary concern then. As soon as the battle was over, he'd checked his Friends List, and was deeply relieved to find Kizmel's name still on it, her HP in the blue. "Alive" wasn't the same as "all right", though, and he knew it.

Heart pounding in his throat, he raced up the path on Midnight Tor. There, waiting for him at the top, stood the beautiful elf he'd been looking for, lilac hair and dark cloak drifting in the breeze. That cloak was tattered, her armor scratched and stained with sickly green, but she was there, hale and whole.

It had only been a day since he'd seen that face. It felt like years. When she turned to look at him, the faintest trace of a smile on her lips, Kirito came right up to her and caught her up into a tight hug. He didn't care that she was still wearing armor, which dug into his chest. He only cared that her arms went around him without hesitation, and the scent of pine and sakura blossoms as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

I lost to this world, he thought, losing himself in the feel of the elf girl in his arms. Everything I have now, came from here. Whether we ever get out of here or not, this is what matters. …I can live with that.

At length, he heard Kizmel draw a deep breath. "I meant that message for Argo," she murmured in his ear. "But… somehow, I knew you'd be the one to come here, Kirito."

"I had to," he said softly. "I couldn't leave things the way they were." Reluctantly, Kirito pulled away, stepping back a discreet few paces. Kizmel's expression was unreadable now; and then he couldn't see it all, as he bowed deeply. "I'm sorry, Kizmel. I tried not to lie to you, ever. I never said anything that wasn't true—but I never told you the biggest truth. I was afraid, afraid that you couldn't handle it, afraid that you'd hate me for it."

It wasn't as hard to say as he'd expected. Maybe because he hadn't been able to think about anything else, since Lind had dropped the bombshell. Maybe just because, in the end, this would be the greatest burden off his shoulders. Whatever the outcome, everything that needed to be said, would be.

"I was wrong," Kirito continued, looking at the barren ground of the tor. "Even if you did hate me for it, you had a right to know. Keeping the truth from you just made things worse. …I'm sorry."

Every muscle in his virtual body was tense, and his heart was pounding in his ears. He had no idea how she'd respond—but even if she rejected his apology, even if she decided she never wanted to see him again, at least he'd said it.

For an entire minute, the only sound was the keening of the cold wind that always haunted the Twilight Citadel. Then, just barely above that wind, Kizmel said, "Look at me, Kirito." When he did, straightening from his bow to meet her inscrutable gaze, she went on, "What is the truth? What is it you truly believe about this world?"

The words came easily now. Some of this he'd said to her before. Some of it was just so much easier to say, with the nature of Aincrad made clear to her. "This world is an illusion, but that doesn't make it fake," Kirito said firmly. "People live here, and we can die here. I've met people I never would have in the real world. I've made friends, when I couldn't as the person I was in the real world."

He'd been a virtual hermit, before Sword Art Online had trapped him. He hadn't had a "friend" in longer than he could remember. He hadn't even made enough of an impact on anyone to make enemies. After the day he learned the truth of his family, even they had been nearly strangers to him.

The Steel Castle had brought him to Klein, and Agil, and Sachi. To his first partner and still dear friend, Asuna. His actions had made such an impact on the clearing effort that even at their worst, Kibaou and Lind had been forced to acknowledge him.

Living in Aincrad had brought Kirito to the girl who stood before him now.

"I don't know what you are, Kizmel," he said frankly. "I don't know what Kayaba could've done to bring someone to life in this world. But I know you are alive, and that… I can't imagine life without you. I don't want to imagine it. I…"

Kirito forced himself to stop then. To give her a chance to respond, before he said the words that would change everything. What happened next wasn't just up to him, after all; it wasn't his world that had been that had been thrown into chaos, this time.

Kizmel looked at him wordlessly, violet eyes seeming to weigh his admission."To be honest," she said finally, "when I finally heard the truth, I didn't know what to think. Of you, of Asuna, of the other Swordmasters… Of myself. I went searching, trying to disprove what had been said of the people of this world." Her lips twitched in what might've been a bitter smile. "Speaking with some humans in the City of Beginnings… didn't give me the answers I'd hoped for."

Kirito winced. A lifelong gamer, it wasn't hard for him to imagine what must've happened when someone who had, up to then, believed NPCs to be alive had tried to have a genuine conversation with them. What it must've been like for someone born of that world… Even with his history, he couldn't quite wrap his mind around it.

"Klein found me after that," Kizmel continued, shaking her head as if to cast off unpleasant memories. "He told me… things about this world, and the mechanisms behind it, that gave me hope even as they disturbed me. He showed me Kobayashi, proving to me the constructed nature of Aincrad—and then he showed me that I was not simply one of many, as that ship was."

"The beginning of the Elf War," Kirito murmured, uttering a silent thank you to Klein. "Ever since Asuna and I saved you, it's always been a different Dark Elf there…"

"Yes. Which gave me just enough hope to move on, and think." She turned to the ruins of the Twilight Citadel, idly reaching up to hold her hair out of face against the breeze. "I visited my old home, the house in which Tilnel and I grew up, to confirm my own memories. And then… I came here." She glanced back at him, dark eyes unreadable. "Do you know why, Kirito?"

"…I can guess."

The barest hint of a smile crossed Kizmel's face again, before she turned to look at the ruins again. "Yes. I came here to remind myself of our grandest battle together—of how desperate you were to save me, as I fell to the King's poison." She took a deep breath, let it out, and went on, "Kirito. I still have so many doubts about who and what I am, and what will happen from here on. But I remember. You and Asuna saved me, the day we met, when I'd died time and again before. You chose to save me, leaving Sasamaru to die. And… I know what choice you made, to come to me here."

She knew he'd killed Morte, then. Kirito supposed that explained the apparent departure of whichever PKer "Johnny" had been. She knows… and she understands. Of course, if anyone would, it would be her. "It wasn't a choice, Kizmel," he said quietly. "It never has been. Not with you."

"I know it hasn't. Just as I know, now, that you have never lied to me. You never told me the truth of this world, but you only evaded, never lied." She faced him one more time, meeting his eyes levelly. "So tell me, Kirito. The truth that brought you here, now."

Just for a second, the words caught in Kirito's throat. He'd never said anything like it, and if he did say it, everything would change. Whether she accepted it, or rejected it.

But she already said it to me, and she's the one who taught me to speak up when it really matters.

Kirito swallowed, boldly took one step closer, and reached for the elf girl's hand. "I came back for you because I had to," he said. "Because I love this world… and I love you, Kizmel."

Silence, for a long, long moment. Then, very slowly, her lips curved in the deepest smile he'd ever seen from her. Accepting his hand, Kizmel let him pull her into another tight hug. "Finally," she whispered, breath tickling his ear. "I've been waiting for those words, Kirito-kun. My friend. My love."

Giddy relief filled him at those words, and this once, Kirito took the initiative. Pulling back just far enough to look into her eyes, he drew Kizmel into a kiss. Chaste at first, just feeling the lips that tasted of moontear wine against his; then, as those lips parted against him, he deepened it. Holding her tight against him, he tried to put every bit of feeling into that kiss, expressing with lips and tongue every emotion he wasn't eloquent enough to put in words.

Only when they were on the verge of suffocation damage did Kirito pull back, gasping for breath; something in him was proud that Kizmel was doing the same. She was as flushed as her dusky skin could allow. He had a feeling he was at least as red.

He also very much wanted to do it again, but there were still things that needed to be said. Withdrawing a bare few centimeters, to place his hands on her shoulders, Kirito said, "Kizmel. I don't know how yet, but I promise you, I'll find a way to bring you out of this world when the Ruby Palace is cleared. I won't let you die with Aincrad. So… will you come with me? To my world?"

Kizmel smiled at him again, an expression he decided he wanted to see as much as possible. "Why, Kirito-kun… That might just be mistaken for a proposal of marriage, you know."

"Of course I know that." It wasn't something he would've seriously contemplated, not so long before. By the standards of his home society, Kirito was years too young for that. But Aincrad was a world, and a law, unto itself; a place more like the Sengoku era, when marriages at only fifteen had been common among the samurai.

It was a world he'd come to call home. To love, even as it tried to kill him. Where a single sword could carry a young man from hikikomori to self-confident swordsman. To places, and people, he could never have imagined in the waking world.

"Of course I know," Kirito said again, meeting Kizmel's eyes. "Because it is, Kizmel. Will you marry me?"

"Of course I will." Her smile was blinding, her eyes shining. "I've waited for those words since that night at Yofel Castle… Yes, Kirito-kun. I will be yours—here, and in the world from which you came. I want to know that world, just as I want to know everything about you."

Then it was her turn to pull him into a kiss, long and desperate, and right then, nothing else mattered.

---

Happier than she could ever remember being in her life, Kizmel wanted nothing more than to spend the day in private with Kirito. Now that she had finally coaxed the truth of his feelings toward her out of him, there were many things that needed to be said—and done. Affirmations of her own existence, and how their life together would be from then on.

As she'd told Tia, though, she was still a knight, whether she was with the Pagoda Knights or the Swordmasters. With word that the raid group was about to make one more assault on The Geocrawler, this time with the expectation of winning, she could hardly refuse to return to the frontline at least that long.

"Asuna's message said the battle should be pretty short," Kirito murmured to her, when they materialized in Dollarah. "Then we can go find out what 'surprise' Rain and Philia have for us."

"I'll hold you to that, my love," she breathed in return, clasping his hand briefly in hers. "If we're to be wed, there are things that must be done properly."

She suspected he didn't know exactly what she meant by that. As far as she could tell, her partner—her husband-to-be—remained ignorant of certain things in Aincrad. Introducing him to them was something to which she was very much looking forward.

Alas, duty first, Kizmel thought, accompanying Kirito through Dollarah's dusty streets to the clearing group's temporary headquarters. Duty—and a settling of accounts.

Much the same assortment of clearers waited inside the meeting room as the day before. Klein had rejoined Fuurinkazan, and the usual assortment of Divine Dragons and Knights of the Blood were there, along with various unaligned players. At least two of the last, Kizmel realized, she didn't even recognize, and wondered absently what they were doing in a strategy meeting for a Field Boss.

Philia, she noticed curiously, was entirely absent. Rain was not, and indeed the first to notice her return. "Kizmel!" the redhead called, heedless of the way she interrupted the meeting. "You're back!"

Laughing, Kizmel caught Rain's embrace, returning it in full measure. "Yes, I'm here, Rain. Kirito brought me back—as I'm sure you knew he would."

"Well, he does come through when it counts. Usually." Rain pulled away, latching onto Kirito to give his arm a brief squeeze. "Good work, hero."

He laughed sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. Kizmel found herself hiding a chuckle behind her hand, seeing him so awkward after his boldness with her. "Well, I didn't really have a choice, did I?" he said. "…There's something I need to tell you and Philia, but it can wait 'til later…"

Many things, Kizmel thought. Good and bad. Tia, her words about her "sisters", what happened with Morte… But today has not been all bad. Not at all.

She was interrupted in her musings, and Kirito saved from his embarrassment, by Asuna coming around from her place at the head of the table. The KoB's Vice-Commander—one of Kizmel's closest friends—stood there silently for a moment, biting her lip. Then, bowing deeply, she said, "I'm sorry, Kizmel-chan. What I said yesterday… It may have been true, but it was the wrong way to say it. And… our strategy then was wrong. We should never have even suggested it—"

Kizmel pulled the other girl into a tight hug. "It's all right, Asuna," she whispered into chestnut hair. "I… am not exactly what I'd call 'all right' myself, but I will be. More than ever, now that I know the truth. All the truth."

"…I'm still sorry. But I'm glad you know, Kizmel-chan. And I'm so, so glad you're back." Asuna pulled back, brushing a sleeve across her eyes. "I'm sure we have a lot to talk about, but we've got a boss to take out. I got a tip last night—from an NPC—and it turns out Rain-san and a couple of lower-level solos have just the tricks we need. If you and Kirito-kun are up for it—"

"A moment, Vice-Commander? I'm afraid there's one more thing that needs to be said."

All eyes in the room, even Heathcliff's dispassionate gaze, turned to Lind. The guildmaster of the Divine Dragons Alliance had risen from his chair, and now approached the newly-arrived pair.

Kizmel watched him warily. She was much recovered from the shock Lind had inflicted on her, but that by no means meant she'd forgotten it. With the proper context, his methods did seem marginally less horrific, to be sure, yet her encounter with Tia had left her questioning them once again.

Aloud, though, she merely said, "Yes, Guildmaster Lind?"

At first, he only stood there, visibly struggling to put thought into word. Finally, Lind said, "I won't apologize for yesterday, Kizmel-san. As it turns out, my proposed strategy may have been a flawed one, but what I said was still something you needed to hear." He hesitated. "I am sorry that you had learn under such conditions."

Kizmel gazed into the would-be knight's proud eyes for a long moment, then slowly nodded. "Fair enough, Guildmaster. To be honest, I wouldn't have accepted your apology in any case." It was her turn to pause; in her case, for effect. "Neither Kirito nor I will ever contemplate joining the Divine Dragons, for any reason."

"…That's fair enough," Lind echoed. He hesitated again, pressed his lips in a fine line that wasn't quite a grimace, and turned to Kirito. "As to you—"

He was interrupted by the sound of an item being drawn from a Swordmaster's inventory. Before he—or anyone else—had a chance to even wonder what, Kirito's hand flicked toward him.

Anything else Lind might've tried to say was cut off by his gasp of shock, as an entire glass of ice water hit him full in the face.

"Right or not, that was still a jerk move yesterday, Lind," Kirito said conversationally. "Honestly, I'd like to punch you for it, but we're not in a Safe Haven, so… I figured that was the next best thing." Flashing a quick grin, he took Kizmel's arm and led her past the sputtering guildmaster to the table. "So! What's the new plan, Asuna? If you think this is going to be over that quick, you must've found some big secret."

Amid snickers from around the table, Kizmel heard Shivata choke out, "Y'know, Guildmaster… you kinda had that one coming."

Quietly, so quietly only Kizmel's elven ears likely caught it, Lind muttered, "I suppose that was fair enough, as well…"

Returning to the head of the table, Asuna's ears were turning pink from an obvious effort not to join in the laughter. "It turns out, Kirito-kun, that an Extra Skill is the key to this battle," she said, voice just a little higher in pitch than her usual Vice-Commander sobriety. "Would you believe we need to sing it to sleep…?"

Settling into a chair right beside Kirito, close enough to discreetly take his hand under the table, Kizmel smiled to herself. Bickering Swordmasters, insane plans against bizarre foes… Yes. This is home. This is where I belong. With these strange, infuriating, wonderful people.

---

Somewhere, Kizmel was convinced, some higher power was laughing at her. After all the heart-wrenching turmoil The Geocrawler had instigated—after all the trouble involved in several days of fruitless struggle—the battle that finally led to its demise was the most absurdly one-sided in her memory. Even the Fifty-First Floor's Tower Guardian, Agreus The Wind Fish, had put up more of a fight.

Three Swordmasters sang a child's lullaby at it, while the rest of us hacked it to pieces. I'm surprised the lullaby did not put us to sleep.

To have such a pathetically easy battle, after such chaos, surely meant something was having fun at their expense. Probably Kayaba. The more she learned of the man, the more she believed him to be diabolically capricious.

Deep down, though, Kizmel was forced to concede she couldn't object too much. A swift conclusion to the raid meant she and her comrades could promptly abscond from the frontline, and finally learn what, exactly, Philia had been up to during the day's events.

Returning to the Fifty-First Floor for the second time in as many days wasn't quite what she'd been expecting. As Klein led her party, his own Fuurinkazan, and Asuna toward Ousetta Island's docks, Kizmel leaned in close to Kirito. "Do you have any idea what's going on, my love?"

He blushed at her choice of address, but shook his head. "Those two wouldn't tell me, either. I think Fuurinkazan knows, but otherwise… Well, I'm pretty sure Argo is involved, somehow."

That was ominous, considering the occasion. Kizmel found herself grateful that it was at least late enough in the day that swimsuits weren't required for safety. For what was coming, she didn't think they would be quite appropriate attire—certainly not with Argo guaranteed to be taking pictures.

"I don't know your other party members very well," Asuna put in, smiling softly. "But if I know Fuurinkazan, they won't be too embarrassing. Not today."

Probably true. If there was one thing concrete Kizmel had learned in the past months, it was that Klein knew quite well when to be perfectly serious. If Asuna had not taken the reins of clearing leadership, the samurai would certainly have been Kizmel's choice.

At least Asuna made no complaint about taking time away from the front for once. I couldn't imagine this day without her.

Realizing that her own party's Black Cat was missing from the docks when they arrived was enough to lift both of Kizmel's eyebrows. Klein, spotting the expression, laughed. "I promise you, no funny stuff tonight, My Lady," he said, gesturing for the group to follow him aboard Kusanagi. "Everything for the happy couple—even if I do kinda wanna strangle Kirito right now, the lucky dog…"

The last statement was low, but not quite enough to escape human ears, let alone elven. It earned Klein a cuff on the shoulder from Dynamm, and from Kirito a muttered, "You'd have better luck with girls if you didn't talk like that, Klein."

"Give 'im a break," Rain advised, leaning casually against Kusanagi's rail as the sailboat cast off. "Not his fault there's practically no girls his age in SAO. Think I've seen one or two back on the First Floor, and I remember one lady guildmaster in the mid-levels, but that's about it."

Ah, yes, the Swordmasters' skewed gender proportions. At least I understand that better now. Kizmel settled in beside Kirito on the deck, leaning against him more openly than she would have before. Kirito's propensity for ending up entangled with half the women of Aincrad is still more of a mystery… but at least from today on, my claim will be clear.

The sun was low enough to see again by the time Kusanagi began to slow. More curious than ever, as she couldn't remember anything of any significance in that region of the Fifty-First Floor, Kizmel turned to look toward the bow. Just coming into clear view was small patch of land, so small she wasn't even sure it was on the map. On the tiny island was a dock, where Black Cat was already docked; and beyond it…

"A bungalow?" Kirito said, frowning. "Wait… Rain, don't tell me…?"

"It's a cabana, actually," the redhead told him, smirking. "But yeah. Philia and I found it while the rest of you were running around trying to kill The Geocrawler. We did kinda blow the entire house budget, and maybe a little extra, but… Here's our own private island, just for us. Well, sandbar, anyway, but who's counting?"

A dock, a small house, and enough beach to stretch out on. Kizmel knew exactly how much Cor they'd all allocated to the fund for their own private home, and wondered just how much more Philia had added from her treasure hunting. Even with all four of them contributing, such a purchase could not have been an easy one.

However much it was, she found herself deeply grateful. She'd been born to forests and dark stone, yet settling with Kirito and her friends in such a place would've felt wrong. Being able to rest at night on the floor that held some of her best memories with them—with him—was enough to make her eyes shimmer.

Waiting for them by the cabana, when they'd disembarked Kusanagi, were Philia, Sachi, and Argo the Rat. Kizmel and Kirito had barely stepped off the dock before they found themselves caught up in a tangled hug by all three. "I'm so glad you're okay," Sachi said, into the confused pile. "I was so worried… After everything you've both done for me, I couldn't stand it if I lost you, too."

"I know," Kizmel murmured back. "That's part of what brought me back. Thank you all, for caring."

"Hah! 'Bout time ya realized it, Kii-chan. You're worth more to us than a buncha other players I could name, I can tell ya that." It was almost a relief to hear the mischief in Argo's voice—another sign that everything was back to normal. "If ya hadn't come back, I might've had to do something drastic!"

Too normal, perhaps. I shudder to think of her definition of drastic. "Perish the thought, Argo. Please."

It was Philia who scored a direct hit on her heart, though. "Welcome home, Kizmel," she whispered. "Welcome home."

Tears beginning to run free now, Kizmel returned the group hug as well as she could. "I'm home," she said, returning the traditional Swordmaster greeting of "tadaima". "Truly, I'm home."

---

What wedding traditions there were for the culture from which her betrothed came, Kizmel wasn't sure. Kirito had expressed an ignorance that she judged was only partly feigned, and she hadn't had a chance to ask anyone else she trusted to answer honestly. Her own people's, she judged unfit for the situation, and truthfully had never studied in-depth. Aincrad's own, built into the "system" that governed the world, seemed quite minimal.

It was Asuna, in the couple of hours between The Geocrawler's defeat and the departure for the Fifty-First Floor, who had put together an improvised event. Simple, Kizmel thought, but elegant—especially for something devised on such short notice.

So, as the sun began to dip below the rim of the Fifty-First Floor, Fuurinkazan stood in full armor on one side of the island's narrow beach. Red lacquer gleaming like blood against the sunset, even the most unkempt of them looked the part of noble warriors.

On the other side, a collection of independents. Asuna, in her full red-trimmed white KoB uniform. Rain in her knee-length coat, and Philia concealing her revealing armor under a cloak borrowed from Sachi. Argo, somehow managing to appear solemn in her typical brown cloak. Even Agil had arrived at some point in the preparations, wearing polished armor and a broad grin, hands clasped on a huge battleaxe as if it were a ceremonial blade.

Between the rows of witnesses, Kirito stood waiting, his adventuring garb replaced with the tailored suit and tailed coat he'd worn for the Yule Festival.

As Asuna had insisted, only when the others were in place did Kizmel come down from the cabana. Her own armor had been exchanged for the rose-accented tunic, tights, and long gloves she'd worn for that fateful dance. The way Kirito blushed, swallowing hard at the sight of her, brought a smile to her face as she walked down the sand toward him.

There was no provision for ceremony in Aincrad's marriages. All there was, was Kirito silently taking her gloved hand in his, and drawing her to the water's edge. There he opened his menu, nervously touching a precious few commands, and a small window appeared before Kizmel.

Such a simple thing, for a moment of such import. It said only, [Kirito Proposes Marriage: Yes/No?]

Too simple, perhaps. Someday, Kizmel hoped, they could do this properly. For now, she only smiled softly, and carefully pressed her choice.

Later, she would learn of the large, bright [Congratulations!] notice that appeared above them. At that moment, Kizmel cared only for the indefinable yet unmistakable change that had just occurred, and the way Kirito smiled and pulled her into his arms.

She didn't even care about the bright flash from Argo's Recording Crystal, as her lips met her husband's against the setting sun.

---

Between the coffers of four Swordmasters, buying an entire small island—or sandbar, whatever—was just barely possible. Barely. Kirito suspected they would all need to be frugal with expenses for a little while, and he'd soon found the furnishings in the island's cabana were a bit lacking. There were just enough chairs in the common room for their little party, and one of the two bedrooms only had one bed in it.

He didn't grudge the purchase, though. It was right, he thought, that Rain and Philia had found them a home on the floor where they'd come together. The floor where he'd been forced to confront the feelings he'd come to have for his partner.

My wife, Kirito corrected himself, looking into the mirror set over the dresser in his and Kizmel's room. That's… going to take some getting used to.

So much had changed in just a couple of days. Kizmel had finally learned the truth of SAO, grappled with it, and somehow come out the other side without hating his guts. For the first time, he himself had been forced to kill another human being. Now he was married, something that would've been unthinkable to him even in this world, not so long ago.

Waiting for Kizmel to emerge from their bedroom's attached bath, Kirito found himself just looking at himself in the mirror. Shirt unequipped to deal with the heat that lingered into the night, he thought it was the first time he'd really looked at himself since… maybe since the death game had begun. By rights, he ought to have had dozens of scars from all his battles, and a good deal more muscle from daily effort with a sword, but his virtual body showed no sign.

He did think, looking closely, that his body had changed some since the day Kayaba trapped them all. A little taller, his face a little more mature; he wondered if Kayaba had taken into account growth of the younger players, when he gave them their real faces. Whether that was a kindness or a curse, Kirito couldn't quite decide.

Otherwise, the only changes he could see were the simple silver band on his left ring finger, which would only come off now in death, and a darkness in the onyx eyes looking back at him that hadn't been there before. The knowledge of what it was to take a life, he supposed.

One thing he knew for sure: that was no longer the face of the boy who'd entered Sword Art Online's beta test some nineteen months before. The otaku whose real name even he barely remembered was gone. The swordsman Kirito, someone who more closely resembled what his grandfather had tried to make him, was all he saw now.

"Thinking deep thoughts, my love?"

Turning from the mirror, Kirito saw Kizmel emerging from the bathroom and swallowed hard. In place of the formal tunic she'd worn for their wedding, she was clad only in the thin nightgown he'd first seen the very night they met. Very sheer, it was, doing very little to hide the curves beneath. Back then, his own shyness and Asuna's insistence had kept him from looking too closely.

Now, as Kizmel strode over to join him by the mirror, he couldn't do anything but stare. Now, there was no reason for him not to.

From the smile on her face, she knew exactly the effect she was having. But then, he suspected she always had; certainly she'd known perfectly well what she was doing by the time she'd tricked him and Asuna into joining her in a hot spring back on the Sixth Floor.

Her gentle nudge of his ribs shoved thoughts back on track. Mostly. "Just thinking about how much I've changed," he said honestly. "I have to admit, back when we first met I never would've imagined… well, this."

Kizmel chuckled. "Says the man who suggested marrying me when we'd known each other perhaps three days."

Kirito blushed. That moment of foot-in-mouth idiocy he remembered perfectly well. He was still surprised Asuna hadn't done more than shout at him over it. "Um, I didn't actually mean that one," he mumbled. "I'd just been wondering what you were, and I couldn't exactly say that, so… I just said the first thing that popped into my head."

He also distinctly recalled wishing VRMMOs had save files. If ever he'd wanted to reload a previous save outside of a life-and-death scenario, that had been it.

"Oh? That's a shame." She chuckled again, a low, throaty sound that Kirito's hormones greatly approved of. Deliberately brushing against his arm, Kizmel stepped to the open window by the bed, gazing out at the Fifty-First Floor's sea. "By the time you met Queen Idhrendis, if you'd asked for my hand, I don't believe I would have objected."

"Really?" He turned to watch her, a part of his mind noticing her gown clung to her back just as well as her front. "I mean, by then we were all good friends, but I didn't think, well…"

"I don't know that I loved you as man, then," she said, resting her arms on the windowsill. "I believe it was after you saved me—again—in the battle that claimed the Black Cats that I began to wonder. I was only certain after our first kiss, at the Yule Festival. But after we'd fought so long and hard together, against the Fallen Elves, and you saved me from the Fallen King's poison… Yes, I think I could've accepted being your bride then."

Blinking, Kirito tried to imagine himself asking an NPC queen for the right to marry one of her knights, especially with the even more limited social skills he'd had at the time. Then he imagined Asuna's reaction if he'd done so then, when they were still partners, and blanched.

Kizmel turned to face him again, saw his expression, and laughed. "Truly, I'm glad you waited," she said, leaving the window to rejoin him. "I admit I grew… frustrated… with your refusal to acknowledge my feelings, but knowing what I do now… Yes. It's better this way."

"I think so, too," he said, reaching out to wrap an arm around her shoulders. "It's still going to take some getting used to, and I'm still sorry I took so long to tell you everything. But I'm glad I did, finally."

"Good." Leaning into him, her smile took on a new quality as she looked up at him. One that made his heart race, and for the life of him he couldn't tell if he was excited or frightened. "Now that we are married, Kirito-kun… I believe a husband has certain duties to his wife, hm?"

Urk. Kirito was socially inexperienced, not totally ignorant. He didn't think it was possible for a computer otaku not to understand what she meant, by his age. But still, she couldn't actually mean…?

"Uh," he said, when he regained some capacity for speech. "Um, Kizmel, I don't know that that's even possible here! I mean, the age rating for SAO was—"

"I believe we've established whatever conventions for your 'games' that might ever have applied were thrown aside by Kayaba when he began his crime, Kirito-kun." There was a definite edge of fond exasperation in the elf girl's smile now. "If this was meant to be experienced as the world I always believed it to be, do you truly think such a thing would be left out? Let me show you what Argo told me of, the day I became a Swordmaster…"

As Kizmel set her menu to visible and led him through the maze of options, Kirito finally learned what it was that had managed to embarrass even her, that October day. So that's what an "Ethics Code" is, he thought numbly. How in the world did Kayaba sneak that past the ratings board?

Probably the same way he snuck in programming to fry brains. And he was avoiding the issue, which was getting a lot harder to do with Kizmel looking at him like that…

"Kizmel," he got out, "are you sure about this? I…" He glanced away, face flaming as hot as it ever had since he'd been in the game. "…I'm fifteen…"

"Is that the warrior who came into his own in this world I hear, or the boy who had never fought a battle in his life?" Her acerbic tone drew his gaze back to her, to find her rolling his eyes at him in a very human gesture. "My love, I asked Argo months ago. I'm perfectly well aware you're above your homeland's 'age of consent'. Considering that you are not at your legal 'marriageable age', I hardly think you should be worried about your homeland's standards at all now.

"So tell me, Kirito-kun: are you truly going to hold back now? After everything you've done in this world, is this too much for you?"

Kirito forced himself to stop, and think, and remember his own thoughts when he'd looked into that mirror. Remember the face not of a Japanese schoolboy, but a Swordmaster of Aincrad. The Black Swordsman, the first Beater, Kirito.

…That world isn't what matters here, is it? This is where I live now. There's no sense holding myself back now, is there.

He gave Kizmel his answer then, pulling her into his arms and kissing her again. She made a wordless sound of approval against his mouth, and started moving them away from the dresser.

Emboldened by the feeling of her soft body against his, he made a decision. Breaking the kiss, he traced his lips up to one of her long, pointed ears, traced the edge—and lightly bit down on the tip.

The room spun around him with startling abruptness, accompanied by a soft flash and quiet swish. When everything settled again, Kirito found himself flat on his back on the bed, Kizmel kneeling over him, her hands braced on either side of his head. Her gown was gone, leaving nothing but dusky skin filling his sight. Skin, and her half-lidded eyes and sultry smile.

"I believe I warned you, my love," she whispered. "That there would be consequences if you did that again." She licked her lips. "Are you prepared for them?"

Heart racing, Kirito reached up to cup her cheek. "I am," he said, with only the slightest stutter.

"Good." Then she was pressing against him, a desperate embrace, and all that mattered in his world was the Dark Elf in his arms.

---

In Aincrad, there was no true darkness at night. Though the moon and stars could only be seen at the very edges of a floor, there was always some illumination; not the harsh white of the big cities of the real world, but a soft blue glow with no real source. A concession to the nature of SAO as a "game", Kirito had always thought, even if that nature was only stage dressing.

Lying in bed beneath an open window, some starlight did reach Kirito now. His party's little island was close enough to the edge of the Fifty-First Floor for that; earlier, moonlight had cast Kizmel in an ethereal glow even as they moved together. Mostly, though, their bedroom was lit by that omnipresent blue.

As much as he'd enjoyed the effects of moonlight, just then Kirito was glad for that blue glow. The way it lit up Kizmel's dusky skin as she lay across him, only half-covered by the sheet in the tropical floor's heat, helped ground him in the world that was his current home, not the one he was trying to return to.

Listening to Kizmel's soft breathing, feeling it on his chest as she slept in his arms, he mused to himself that there was another way in which people back in the real world would probably never have understood him. No doubt to the people of Japan, Kayaba Akihiko was nothing but a mass-murderer, who had trapped ten thousand people in a deadly game for his own amusement. Yet Kirito, honestly, couldn't help but feel just a little bit grateful.

It was a horrible thought. Over three thousand people had already died, some of them because of him, and he was sure the deaths were far from over. Even still, thinking back, he had the feeling that that moment wouldn't have been so nice, if he'd never entered SAO. The person he would've become if the past year had been in the real world, he suspected, would've been far less… fulfilled.

I'd be alone, Kirito told himself, stroking Kizmel's soft, smooth back. More than anything else, I'd still be alone. I don't want that anymore. Not even after…

The elf in his arms stirred. "Kirito-kun?" she whispered, lifting her head to look at him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Kizmel," he told her, hand drifting back up to touch her face. "Sorry. Did I wake you?"

"Mm-hm." She stretched, the motion sending a shiver through him, and shifted to better meet his eyes. "I don't mind… Right now, reality is better than my dreams."

Kirito would've liked to think that was a positive, and he was pretty sure it mostly was. After a year and more of watching what he said, though, he picked up on her phrasing easily enough. "Bad dreams?"

"Not all of them. Some of them were of us, the nights we spent together before." A smile crossed Kizmel's face, then faded. "Some… Well. I suppose I'm not going to recover from everything I've learned overnight." She hesitated. Sighed, and lowered her head to rest on his shoulder. "…I'm still frightened, Kirito-kun."

Well. He certainly couldn't argue with that. What they did on a daily business in clearing was dangerous enough for him, and he only had to worry about dying in combat. His own bold promise aside—however sincere he was in keeping it—they still didn't know how to save her from Aincrad's inevitable end.

"We'll find a way through, Kizmel," he murmured, running his hand down her back again. "If there's one thing I know besides swords, it's computers. All I need is a hint, some kind of access. I'm sure there's something, somewhere."

Those weren't just empty words, either. Argo had already brought Kirito rumors of admin consoles, failsafes in case of exactly the error everyone had originally thought the missing log-out option to be. She was still trying to track down details about supposed Argus employees among the playerbase, and he was confident she'd find something. She always did.

"I believe you, my love." Her smile returned; smaller, but genuine. "You've never lied to me, after all." One lilac eyebrow lifted. "And what is your excuse for sleeplessness, Kirito-kun? Surely you should be tired enough by now."

Kirito flushed. "Well… I was just thinking about how hard it'll be to go back home," he admitted. "Just today, so much happened. I've crossed some boundaries I never expected to. I… killed someone. And, well… Um. Earlier tonight." He sighed, turning his head to look out the window at the slice of night sky. "I don't even recognize myself in the mirror now. I mean, my old self. I kind of wonder… what will my family see, when they look at me now? What will my sister see in my eyes?"

"A man," Kizmel said confidently. "Perhaps others of your people would not, but I believe any family of yours would see through to the truth." Her brow creased in a frown; not angry, he judged, just thoughtful. "Do you regret any of it?"

He thought back to the events of the day. Cutting down Morte—for his own life, for Kizmel's, and as cold as it was, for anyone who might be saved by keeping his Unique Skill secret a while longer. Confessing to Kizmel, and marrying her. Taking her to bed.

The good, and the bad. Would I do it all again, if I had to? …Like I even have to think about it.

"No," Kirito said finally, sadly. "I think I'm going to have a nervous breakdown sooner or later… but no. I don't regret it."

"Good. Because you have nothing to be ashamed of, Kirito-kun—and I've no intention of letting you go, now." She smiled again, cuddling closer. "I still need to meet my husband's family, after all."

That was possibly the most frightening thing he'd heard since the whirlwind of events had started. Still, something about it appealed to him, and holding Kizmel close, enjoying her warm softness, he let the thought of bringing her home—truly home—carry him into sleep.

---

Author's Note:

---

Well, comrades, I did say I'd try to have this up by Christmas. I admit, it proved to be a more daunting—and exhausting—task than I expected, but here we are.

This is perhaps the longest chapter I've written in about a decade. I hope that isn't too much of a problem? There were at least three places I could've adequately ended it before I did, but then everything after that wouldn't really fit anywhere else, from a narrative structure standpoint. Hopefully the fact that that basically means even more fluff makes up for it—assuming I didn't overdo it.

Speaking of, I tried very hard to make it heartwarming, but not sappy. I've known authors who can seemingly only have sap in their romantic scenes, and I would like to think I managed that here. Opinions on that would be welcome.

I'd also like some input on the story's rating. I'm not intending to make the content any more explicit than it was in this chapter, but I admit even what's here might be a tad… borderline. If anybody thinks I should change the rating to "M", please advise.

So. Quite a bit of plot development here, eh? I fully realize there's some loose ends to be tied up here, beyond the obvious major plotlines that have just been introduced; more needs to be discussed about certain reveals, there probably wasn't enough exploration of how other characters feel about Kizmel being back—and marrying Kirito—etc. Honestly, I couldn't fit much more of that in this chapter without it getting even more gargantuan than it already is, so I focused on the main points. The next arc is going to explore what's left over in greater detail, I promise.

(Oh, one point I want to clarify here, before anybody gets the wrong idea. Despite Tia's presence, Premiere is not going to be appearing. Sorry, but I've always thought of her as being like Yui, only even less interesting. So the "sisters" Tia mentioned will be canon characters, but not Premiere.)

That being said, I make no promises about when the next chapter will be. I'm trying to wrap up my Persona fic, so that I can focus on this one more (and, among other things, get moving on my next SAO project). Also, I need to work out a few last details about the mechanics of the next arc. And finally? …I have no idea yet how any other chapter is going to live up to this one. I've much thinking to do to make sure the story doesn't take a nosedive in comparison to the big stuff here.

Not that I have any intention of letting this lie fallow too long. I just want everybody aware the next update isn't going to be this quick. Hopefully the length—and the content—of this chapter will tide people over?

Anyway. I hope the conclusion of the grand revelation—and arguably of the first "volume" of Monochrome Duet—lived up to expectations. Until next time, my comrades, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! -Solid